The Deduction of Love (Johnlock)
by Z0MBiiE
Summary: Sherlock decides to finally tell a certain doctor, through awkward silences and words, that he's in love with him. Johnlock. Fluffy goodness. One shot.


A/N: Okay, so this was the first ever Johnlock, or BBC Sherlock fanfic for that matter, that I've ever written. It's kinda cute and fluffy, and the idea came to me when I was reviewing a bit of French. I know it's not perfect to canon behavior, but I hope someone enjoys it anyway! This fic is also listed on my other online accounts, which you can find on my profile, if you should desire.

"John. Come here, please."

John flicked his eyes at the detective, already frowning from his favorite arm chair.

"What is it, Sherlock? And I'm not making you any more tea."

The younger man sighed dramatically, lowering the bow to his violin once more and coaxing out a few melancholy notes. The early morning sun light was streaming in through the dirty windows, giving John a nice view of his pajama-clad and sleep-ruffled boyfriend.

After a moment he sighed, rolling his eyes, as he brought his tea cup to his lips and turned his attention back to the telly. Sherlock quietly placed his violin on the window sill and stepped nonchalantly in front of the ex-soldier.

John huffed, bending around Sherlock to place his tea cup pointedly on the table before turning his eyes back to the detective's. Those bloody brilliant ice blue-green eyes were no doubt deducing John's every movement already.

"What do you want, Sherlock?"

"John, I want to perform an experiment."

With that, Sherlock straddled the older man's lap, taking a slightly stubbled face into his hands. This earned the detective an eyebrow raise, seeing as Sherlock was never really one to show emotion, regardless of his relationship status with the doctor. However, John was enjoying the attention and decided not to comment.

"What sort of experiment? I don't want to be drugged or frightened out of my mind again, Sherlock."

The world's only consulting detective smirked, chuckling a bit at the memory, before he shook his head and leaned forward, forcing the doctor to make absolute eye contact with him.

"I was brushing up on my French for that case with the tourist's murder last week, and I was evaluating literal translations in my free time. Do you know what 'tu me manques' means, John?"

John blinked, not expecting anything of this sort, and wondered how on Earth this could relate to him or an experiment.

"Umm, it means something like 'I miss you,' I believe. Sherlock, you know I haven't taken French since Uni. I'm a bit rusty."

Sherlock rolled his eyes; of course he knew that, as well as how John took his tea or his favorite pair of red pants. He had an entire suite in his mind palace that was dedicated to the doctor, after all.

"Yes, John, keep up."

The doctor raised his eyebrows again, in defiance this time, but the detective's eyes softened, realizing he was being brusque again. Sherlock broke the eye contact, dropping his eyes to the other man's lips as he ran a thumb across them, licking his own, before he began to speak slowly.

"The literal translation is 'you are missing from me.' I considered it while you were at the clinic, and of course I remembered the time I had to spend away from you, when I had to keep you safe. John,"

Sherlock lifted his gaze up to the doctor's eyes, the perfect ocean-blue and sky-grey that he had learned to love and had divorced his marriage from work for to see the happiness in them shine. Those eyes were currently staring back at him, wide and full of open curiosity.

"I know I'm rubbish with emotions, John, but you are a part of me. You are essential to my being. You are as critical as the blood which flows through my veins or my brain which helps me deduce behaviors."

The doctor's body relaxed, all tension fading away as he reached up to cup Sherlock's jaw.

"Sherlock," He whispered, "I-"

"No. I'm not finished. John Watson, I…"

The consulting detective took a deep breath, the doctor bit his bottom lip in anticipation.  
"John Hamish Watson, I love you."

With that, Sherlock leaned forward and captured the other man's lips, trying to convey in motion what he was so rubbish at saying with words. The doctor smiled, returning the kiss and feeling like the world had just become even more perfect.

It was the first time that Sherlock had ever flat out told the doctor that he loved him, and John appreciated the gesture immensely.

"I love you, too, Sherlock," John murmured as they broke away from each other, still smiling.

"Obviously," The detective grinned, jumping up and grabbing his violin once more.

"Widened pupils, muscle relaxation, increased then decreased heart rates, eye contact, the frank alarmingly giddy smile on your face…"

He paused to grin again.

"Clearly, you love me, as I love you, John."

Sherlock shrugged, returning to the crooning of his violin; only this time, the notes were sweet and pleasant. The doctor shook his head, still smiling, as he turned back to the telly with a renewed sense of adoration for the detective and his brilliant deductions.


End file.
